Du Knurlan Shurtugal
by USAirforce
Summary: Nelfgor Jakasson, an orphaned dwarf from the Great War of Alagaesia. Enslaved by his grandfather and a thief in the night. His birthday bringing the best gift, as he is freed by the leader of a organization known as Du Frehor Orum, and is sent to steal the dragon egg sent to Trondheim to be partnered with a dwarf. Little does he expect to bond with it.
1. Prologue

**Sorry, the summary wasn't long enough to allow me to say all the things needed. I apologise for the short chapters, I will try to work on that. This is my first Fanfiction so I will REALLY appreciate constructive criticism. There are not enough words in the ancient language so I will be making some up.**

 **Disclaimer- I do NOT own Mr. Paolini's characters, language, and his mythical land of alagaesia.**

They chanted, and as they chanted energy pulsed through their words. "Heldvar unchi deo arknav seldosun spiritu snarcty ecka durna oloi narchid," the magicians said, their voices coming together in an eerie harmony.

The spellcasters surrounded a muscular man of eighteen years. Then beings of every color and shape entered the room, as if they appeared out of nowhere, ensnared by the spellcaster's spell. Following the flow of energy the spirits flew into the man's body, being corrupted by the nature of both the man and the mages' souls.

In a blinding flash of power and light, the person in the ring was no longer himself. He had hair as crimson as wet blood, eyes like polished rubies, translucent skin, and a wicked grin adorning his face. "We are Managrog, born to kill the new order. Cower all that are before us," He shouted, "for you are **HUNTED.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Paolini's characters, country, or language.**

Clang! Clang! Clang! The sounds of pickaxes banging on an assortment of metals and stones. Thousands of young dwarves all mining. Some were mining for themselves, while others were mining for their families or owners.

The young dwarf Nelfgor Jackason was among the latter categories. He was mining for his grandfather, who also happened to be his owner. Ever since his Mother, Father, and older Brother went off to help in the Great War of Alagaesia and died in battle and in fever, he had lived with his grandfather who was a widower. His grandfather/owner sent him into the mines to retrieve ores that he would then sell to one of the local forges.

Once upon a millenia ago, Nelfgor thought: _Maybe if I work hard enough, I will be given extra food, and maybe a bed_. He was absolutely wrong. He received the same amount of food, while his grandfather treated himself to a wide assortment of expensive cakes, meats, and meads.

Now, let's fast forward a couple of years to Nelfgor's thirty second birthday. To others, another day in the mines. But to him, it was sort of special. To Nelfgor, this was the day his entire life changed, and not for the first time.

"Happy Birthday Nelf," a kid, Agarth Coldsteel(Nelfgor's friend), called to Nelfgor as he approached him.

"Thanks Agar," Nelfgor replied.

"Forty-Third, Right?"

"No. Thirty-Second, I'm not that old."

"Ah, well either way, I got something for you."

Nelfgor was puzzled and excited. Puzzled because he hadn't received a birthday present since he had begun to live with his Grandfather and excited because he knew Agarth was a smith, and the possibilities were endless as to what the gift could be.

Agarth reached into his smithing kit and pulled out a dagger. It was made of simple steel, a seven and a half inch blade, a two and a half inch crossguard also made of steel, the handle was wrapped in Ngra hide leather. Nelfgor was stunned, Nagra leather is extremely hard to acquire. How had Agarth gotten this?

"If you would notice the indention in the middle of your crossguard, I thought you could put your Pyrite in there," Agarth said.

The Pyrite was one thing he owned, two now if you count the dagger. Both Items were highly illegal in the mines and so had to be smuggled and hidden.

Nelfgor was stunned. He reached into his boot and pulled out the mineral. He set the Pyrite into the groove and could immediately tell his friend had taken measurements.

"Thank you," Nelfgor said with awe, "but do you know how much trouble I'll be in if I got caught?

Agarth smiled, "Since when did you care?"

He smiled back, "True."

"AY, YOU!" the warden, sorry Minesitter **(Mining babysitter)** yelled, GET BACK TO WORK, OR YOU'LL BE SENT TO THE PEN."

The pen is where the people are sent when they do not meet the requirements of the mine. The pen's inhabitance, however, is a Nagra, one of the few captured beasts. You're sentenced to an hour of running around, trying not to die-though many do.

"Here," Agarth said, handing me a simple sheath of regular leather, "before you lose a leg."

"Thanks," Nelfgor said, putting the dagger in the sheath and both into the bottom of his boot, "I really can't say anything."

"You don't have to. Happy birthday."

They both parted, going their separate ways. Agarth to the forges, and Nelfgor to the mines.

After a day of mining , smelting, and extensive bathroom breaks, the last three minutes of the day arrived. As Nelfgor was packing up his equipment, a dwarf-tall for his race-walked up to him and said, "Boss wants to see you, lets go."

As Nelfgor went with the Knurlan, the other miners looked at him with sad eyes, some took their helmets.

"Ah, Jakason, glad you could join me," the dwarf known only as "The Boss" said to him as soon as Nelfgor entered into his office.

Nelfgor stayed silent. He didn't know what to say.

"Word around the tunnels is that it is your thirty-second year since birth."

"Yes sir," he replied. _Maybe this won't be so bad_.

"So, tell me this, did that make you think-in the smallest amount-that that would allow you to get away with SLACKING!"

Nelfgor stood there, stunned. "I can't control where the ores are."

"Sir."

"I can't control where the ores are, sir."

"Well, I can't punish the ores now can I," the Boss said with a smug grin.

"I.." Nelfgor started to say.

"Can it, Shortee," the Boss said, even though he was in no position to be talking.

Nelfgor shut up.

The Boss' tone turned back into a malicious calm, "The entire mine has gone to the arena stands for a special treat. Care to guess what it is?"

Nelfgor's skin turned to ice, as if the temperature had dropped drastically.

Goosebumps covered his arms and legs. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Yes," the Boss said, "Someone's going into the pen."

That was the last thing Nelfgor heard before he felt a blow to the back of his head, and passed out.

Nelfgor woke up to a jumble of words, echoing loudly around him.

He opened his eyes and saw the sky above him, smelling the damp of the after-rain **.** He was chained to the floor of the arena. The dagger was still in his boot, for all the good it would do him with the challenge that faced him. A guard unchained him, then retreated, while three more guards cranked open the door of the Nagra's sturdy wooden cage.

The Nagra tentatively walked into the arena, confused at first. Then he saw a tiny morsel of a dwarf, and charged.

 **Hey, I finally updated and I am now trying for the title "King of Cliffhangers." I think I fixed the problem with the length, if I made it to long, or need to make it longer please tell me in the comments. Thank you, for reading, and for your support.**

 **Gulia Waise Medh Ono-**

 **USAirforce**


	3. Chapter 2

**First I must thank the new arrivals to this story, StenHammer and Ettelwen11 welcome. And of course thank you for your reviews and information. And to the Nyerm, thank you for sticking with Nelfgor and I. And now I present to you, Chapter 2.**

 **Disclaimer- I own nothing of Christopher Paolini's**

Nelfgor stood there at first, too stunned to move. Then he lunged to the side as the boar barrelled past him. Nelfgor sprawled in the dirt as the Nagra readied to charge again. He got up, and the boar ran at him, tusks beared.

Again, Nelfgor leaped to the side, but the pig had learned its lesson.

The Nagra tilted its head and lashed out with its tusks. Nelfgor twisted a bit and managed to avoid the brunt of the blow but still got a nasty gash below his ribcage. The tusks threw him thirty feet into the arena's western wall. A large "OOO," came up from the spectators, many of them wincing.

Nelfgor fell to the ground, heard a sickening crack, and screamed. His shoulder was NOT supposed to look like that. He got up and his left shoulder was on fire with paid. He tried to move it and screamed again. Immediately he knew he had broken it. The pig was still up. Unable to move, Nelfgor could only just sit there and wait for the inevitable.

Time seemed to slow down, the Nagra lumbered towards him as if it was running through molasses. Nelfgor's thoughts turned to his parents and brother, and he could see their faces. Then something clicked, and then broke. An invisible barrier in his mind shattered what seemed like a million pieces.

Immediately, his shoulder popped back into place and the gash in his side turned into a small white scar, and then disappeared. Nelfgor's muscles were filled with strength, and instead of ducking to the side, he jumped.

He jumped, 10 meters straight up and over the enormous boar as it barreled under him, slamming into the wall behind Nelfgor.

 **SNAP!**

The boar bellowed from the pain and shock. As the pig ran into the wall, its ivory tusks snapped and flew backwards and at the Nagra, cutting two deep gashes in the sides of its face. The face that, instants later, ran, at a high velocity, into a solid stone wall.

Nelfgor hit the ground behind the impact scene, rolling, so as not to break anything else, and turned to face the boar. You'd think that running face first into a solid granite wall would at least make a boar unconscious, but nobody ever told the pig that. The Nagra got unsteadily to its hooves, turned to face Nelfgor, and got ready to trample him under hoof.

For a few moments it was a staredown, Nelfgor stared at that Nagra. And that Nagra stared right back.

Then the boar reared, roared, and charged at Nelfgor. With the burst of manic energy leaving him, Nelfgor thought, _This ends here_.

Nelfgor looked at the sky, raised his hand, and shouted the one word that was dominating his mind. " _KVEYKVA!"_

Then many things happened all at once. A strange smell filled the air, all of Nelfgor's hairs stood straight up, like porcupine quills.

Then a flash of blinding white light hit the Nagra in the center of its back, effectively stopping it dead in its tracks. The sound that followed the flash was inseparable from the noise that followed.

If every dwarf in Alagaesia were piled in one room and each banged unceasingly on a drum as hard as they could, you would only have a small taste of what it sounded like.

When his eyesight and hearing returned, Nelfgor stood there, wobbling, looking at the smoke curling off the enormous boar.

"Somebody order Porkchops?" he said. Then he did the one thing anybody in his position would have done. He fell to the ground, and passed out.

He woke up at his house, in the cellar on a pile of blankets. Two men were standing next to him. One was his grandfather, a short, fat dwarf with puke green eyes, blond hair and a horrible unkempt beard. The other knurlan was tall, about three feet and seven inches. He wore robes embroidered with gold and silver. He had light brown hair swept to one side, calf brown eyes, and a small well kempt beard.

Nelfgor groaned and started to sit up. "Barzul!" his grandfather cursed, and handed the other dwarf two small nuggets of silver. They clearly had been betting on whether Nelfgor would survive or not. And grandfather Harget had, thankfully, lost.

The unknown dwarf said, "No, Nelfgor Nagrabane. Rest, the magic has taken its toll, now take it back in your dreams." The man muttered a word under his breath, and Nelfgor once again found himself going into his slumbers.

The next time Nelfgor woke up, he was not home. He was lying on a soft bed, with that strange dwarf still over him. This time, Nelfgor sat up and weakly asked, "Who are you?"

The Knurlan stood up straighter.

"I am Hemingr Shrrgslayer, Nelfgor, and I have bought you freedom."

 **I am planning to update every sunday, so you will have to wait till then to read the next chapter.**

 **Also, may I point out the fact that it is kind of challenging for a thirteen year old boy to write even a semi-decent fanfiction, so don't judge me too harshly. Thank you for reading.**

 **Gulia Waise Medh Ono-**

 **USAirforce**


	4. Chapter 3

"Freedom?" That was the first word to come out of Nelfgor's mouth. Freedom was one thing he hadn't known since the most tragic day of his life. Freedom, the word held almost all the power in the world.

"How?

"Well," Hemingr said, "when I brought you home to your grandfather, he thought you would die. I bet him that you would live. His exact words were 'If he lives, you can have that useless son of sky.' **(calling another knurlan a son of sky is a giant insult to dwarves, beings of stone)** So I, being a magician myself, set about you. I had to drain two of my reserves to keep you from passing into the void."

"When most mages use magic for the first time, it is, normally, manipulating something small like a stone or a branch. I haven't heard of anyone summoning lightning on their first use. And according to witnesses you broke your shoulder and was bleeding on your torso."

Nelfgor looked down and saw that there was a patch of crusty blood the size of a cantaloupe under his ribcage. He lifted his shirt, and was surprised to find not even a scar where the original cut was.

"And yet other spectators in your battle say you jumped nigh on fifty feet straight up and over the Nagra. That is pretty impressive considering the size of your legs."

"What words did you say," Hemingr asked, "other than kveykva?"

"That was the only one," Nelfgor replied, "just Kvey…"

"DON'T!" Hemingr screeched, "with your inexperience in the arts of gramayre you are likely to send a shaft of lightning about the room."

"So, anyway, you used nonverbal magic, were you thinking any other words?"

"No."

"What you have done then, by my speculations, is that your body, and the uncontrollable parts of your mind, addressed your situation, and responded ordering the magic to vault you out of the danger of the occurring threat."

"The ability to use unconscious magic has been had before, and it is almost completely sporadic. You are either, simply, born with it, or you are not. But there is one species who has always had this ability," Hemingr snarled, "Dragons."

"Dragons, as you have probably heard, are creatures who have magic, so to speak, running through their veins. Though they can not use it consciously, besides their fire, like you and ability is still bound by the laws of gramarye, other than the need to use the ancient language. It is also very useful for when you are in times where you are scared to the point where conscious thought is impossible."

"But, being hard to control with conscious thought, it can be deadly to yourself and others around you."

"Say if you were drunk and got very angry at another person near you. Your conscious mind would not want to control the situation with magic, but your unconscious mind wouldn't care and it would use magic without you meaning to cast a spell."

"Erik the Short-Tempered had this ability, and with it, he destroyed his entire army, killing every single one of them. There weren't even bodies to encase in stone. He is most known for what he said after that tragedy, 'whoops, my bad.' then he promptly died from energy loss."

"Most magicians do this anyway, but one of the most common and most practical ways to control this power is meditation. Meditation was invented by an elf named Joung Ung, a hermit that lived on an underwater, man-made island in the middle of Leona Lake, four thousand-years ago. Now, there are several hand positions that have been developed, from the zero-three position to the connected fists….."

Nelfgor and Hemingr talked through the hours about the strange gift that the man-made orphan had been given. Until thirteen minutes before sundown, when Hemingr stopped the talk about magic

And he said, "You know, Nelfgor, I like you. I can tell instantly about people, it's a gift, and I can tell that you have gone through much hardship and have come out stronger-the refiner's fire concept if you would."

"It has occurred to me many times throughout our conversation, that it is time for something good to happen. I have an offer for you and I hope you will accept. I would like to offer you a job working for my company."

"You will in no way be a slave, as I detest slave owners. You would be given meat, shelter, and extensive training from me in the arts of gramarye. Including a pay of thirty crowns a day with that pay multiplied by the priority/complexity of an assigned task."

"If you do not accept, you will still receive food and shelter until you get on your feet. You will be given only basic training in the magical arts, and will receive fifty crowns upon your departure."

Nelfgor thought it out, weighing the pro's and con's of the kind knurlan's offer. He had nothing else to do during this period of time so…

"I am in," he and Hemingr shook hands.

"Welcome to Du Frehor Orum."


End file.
